


Nomad of Nothing

by coolshark



Category: Nomad of Nowhere (Web Series)
Genre: Memory Loss, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 11:25:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16136243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolshark/pseuds/coolshark
Summary: Melinda has to say a very hard goodbye. The Nomad, unfortunately, lacks the ability to process this.





	Nomad of Nothing

“Goodbye.” She touched her hand to her protector’s head. The magical current sparked from her fingers, and he slumped forward. For the barest moment, he tried to meet her eyes, to reach for her, to tell her something, anything, already forgetting and trying not to, but then his eyes flickered shut. It was only Melinda’s arms around him that stopped him from thudding to the ground in a messy heap. 

Though he weighed little more than an average scarecrow, it still took some doing to carry him inside. Melinda cursed under her breath as, once again, the door thudded shut on her foot. She didn’t know why she was bothering to be quiet. No one would hear her. Her protector certainly wouldn’t. Not for a while.

With some effort, she hauled him up the ladder into her bed. He’d never bothered to get a bed for himself- the one bed on its tall spindly legs, close to the roof, took up enough space as it was. He could sleep anywhere, or so he’d claimed, and at nights typically dozed off in a corner of the room or on a kitchen chair. But now she laid him on the bed. He deserved to rest somewhere comfortable for once, before he woke up and-

Melinda turned away as a lump rose in her throat. Her eyes burned, but she blinked away the tears. She couldn’t risk hurting him. She couldn’t risk him stopping her. She couldn’t risk losing him. This was the way it had to be. 

She moved through the cottage quickly, shoving food, possessions, into a sack. A few trinkets she worried might trigger his memory, so those had to go too, into the bag with everything else. She didn’t know why she was hurrying. It would be hours at least before he woke up, if not days. She could take all the time she needed. 

But maybe, she thought, as she gazed down at the one picture of her papa that she had, maybe it wasn’t a lack of time. Maybe she just couldn’t stand to stay here any longer, with her protector, no, her friend, whom she’d betrayed. Perhaps it had been necessary, but she’d betrayed him all the same. 

She swallowed hard. Her hand curled tightly into a fist; her fingernails threatened to cut into the skin of her palm. This wasn’t her fault. This was  _ his  _ fault. He called himself El Rey? He was no king. He was a tyrant. A  _ menace.  _ He needed to be stopped, and she was the only one who could stand a chance. She would find a way to succeed where others had been too cowardly to try. She had to. She was Nowhere’s only hope. 

She pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. Her fingers found purchase in her thick red hair, and then she was twisting, pulling, until sharp bolts of pain were drilling through her head. She chewed on her lip. 

A tear forced its way from her eye, then another, and then she was crying, great shivering sobs nearly loud enough to cause the walls to shake, through the weight of the world, of everything she’d done, on her shoulders. How could one person defeat the force of nature that was El Rey? How could anyone hope to try? But if she didn’t try, she’d be nothing but a coward, no better than her friend who’d insisted they both hide in the bramble forest like brownies or rats. 

She shook her head- no, that was unfair. He’d only been doing his best to keep her safe, and he’d succeeded. Now she was a strong, confident young witch, blossoming well into her powers and ready to take the fight to the monster himself. It was a fight she could and would never expect her friend to take up. He simply wasn’t a fighter, and he never would be. She could accept that.

Once she’d gotten the crying out of her system, she shakily rose to her feet, and breathed. It was fine. She could do this. But first-

She climbed slowly up the ladder that led to the bed, and with an aching heart watched how her protector slept. His chest didn’t rise with breath, but that was to be expected- scarecrow. How long had it been since she’d seen him so peaceful? Too long. 

She rested a gentle hand on his cheek. Warm, rough fabric greeted her touch. She smiled, so faintly. 

“You’ll see,” Melinda said quietly. “I’ll stop him. Then I’ll come back, and you’ll get your memories back, and we’ll laugh about this someday. Promise. And until then, you’ll stay safe in here.” Her hand lingered for just a moment more, and then she pulled away. 

She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder. On her way out the door, she paused. Her broom. Should she take it? No, she decided, she didn’t need it. She would leave it here for him, a memento he wouldn’t understand the meaning of. She took a breath, pushed open the door, and stepped outside. 

But before she left the house, she grabbed a plank of wood and a stout branch. She would do one more thing for him before she left. One more thing to keep him safe. A temporary measure, of course. She would come back, after defeating the king and restoring magic to Nowhere. Of course she would- she’d promised. 

Melinda would never break a promise. 

 

_ “Goodbye. _ ”

Slowly, so slowly, he blinked himself awake. His head ached. What happened? Where was he? Was he captured? It was dark.

Suddenly nervous, he took stock of his surroundings. He was in a bed, in a small and cozy room. His bed? His room? They were certainly familiar. If he focused, he could almost remember- clapping his hands, directing small critters here and there, piecing together wood and nail. The weight of branches and boards in his arms was a familiar enough memory, but something so odd and vague it felt like a dream. 

He sat up slowly. His gaze fixed on a small, dark lantern. Hesitantly, he clapped his hands, and in a moment the lantern blinked and stood up on tiny legs. It gave him a questioning look. 

He made a flittery motion with his hands, and it gave him a thumbs up in turn before hopping off its shelf and trotting into a dark corner of the room. Rustling noises as it rifled through a drawer, and then the lantern returned with a match, which it lit by scraping along the rough metal of its own metal body. It touched the match to the its candle, and in a moment the room was lit with a flickering warm light. 

He winced at the light, then gave it an absent thumbs up as he surveyed the room. Familiar, yet strange. What was off? 

The lantern helpfully climbed onto a small end table as he climbed down from the bed. He surveyed the room. Four chairs around a kitchen table. A small stove. A fireplace. To the side, a case full of books. He knew it so well, and yet not at all. This was bizarre. 

He gave the lantern a puzzled glance, and it shrugged in return. It didn’t know where they were any more than he did. Perhaps stepping outside would help.

He peered out of the door. Darkness, and trees. No other houses, and no other people, but he felt that was a good thing. But why? Cautiously, he stepped out. The lantern traced his footsteps cautiously. He squinted into the darkness, but all he could see was his own shadow cast by the lantern. With a snap of his fingers, he gestured for it to go ahead. 

It waved its hands back and forth in protest. He gave it a puzzled look, and it responded by pointing into the darkness and shivering. He threw up his hands, then pointed into the woods. The lantern stomped its tiny foot, but marched into the darkness anyway, with him following close behind. 

So far, it was just trees, bramble vines, and fence posts. No neighbors. Not another person in sight. He couldn’t help but be relieved, but also anxious. Something was missing, he felt. Was it people- but no, being around other people wasn’t safe. Why? He couldn’t have said, and not just because he couldn’t talk. He glanced at his hands. Something… something to do with magic… his magic. Yes, that was it.

He tripped over a rock and went sprawling into the dust. Not something that particularly hurt, but a little embarrassing to do in front of the lantern. It bore him no ill will, but he hurriedly got to his feet anyway. 

As he did, something in his chest crinkled. He froze. He wasn’t supposed to crinkle. Cautious, he reached into his tunic, and pulled out a sheet of paper. Ah, that was it. He turned it over, and saw to his surprise that it had a picture of- was that supposed to be him? But it was too familiar not to be some horrible caricature. He scowled. It didn’t matter what anyone said. It did  _ not  _ look like him. 

More concerning were the words written on it: WANTED and NOMAD OF NOWHERE. That was him. He was the Nomad, he knew, but at the same time, that wasn’t who he was at all. And he was wanted, wanted by… He thought hard.

_ The bad king.  _ The words jumped into his head and just as quickly vanished. He blinked. Then he shrugged and dropped the paper. The lantern casually snagged the wanted poster and, slowly but deliberately fed the offending picture to its flame. It gave him a wink and he tried then failed to suppress a laugh.

He came to the end of the brambles soon enough, and there he found something that stopped him cold. A sign that said plainly in the light of the lantern: DO NOT LEAVE. Now  _ that  _ was something he was sure he’d never seen before. And it was freshly painted, too. Running a finger over the still-wet red paint told him that. And though he was  _ certain  _ he’d never seen the sign before, something about it was achingly, painfully familiar, in a way that burned a hole to his core. 

He put together the facts. He was in a place he knew but didn’t remember. He was wanted by someone for, he thought, his magic. A sign warned him not to leave the safety of the woods. So, he concluded, he was safe here from those who wanted his magic, and something- not a dangerous something, he felt- didn’t want him to leave. The world beyond the bramble forest was unsafe and unfamiliar. 

He backed away from the sign. If that was what was supposed to do, he would stay here in the forest, where it was safe and familiar. He wasn’t worried about loneliness. He had his magic. He could make as many friends as he needed.  He would be safe here. 

He would do what he was supposed to, for as long as he needed. 

 

She swore she would return someday. 

But she didn’t. 

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't expecting to write the lantern but it's now my new fave character


End file.
